


In Another World - Drabbles

by Androgene



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25262041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Androgene/pseuds/Androgene
Summary: Universes are not meant to be killed. When the Quincy killed one universe, the repercussions reverberated through the multiverse. The remnants of the Shinigami will have to muster all their resources and powers to send Kurosaki Ichigo on a desperate mission to save the multiverse.“Kurosaki-kun, do you need a moment with Abarai-kun?”Ichigo’s gaze strayed to the redhead standing silently a short distance away, his tattooed face an identical mask of grim solemnity. Their eyes met and Renji nodded once, very slightly.“No,” Ichigo replied softly, “we’ve said our goodbyes.”
Relationships: Abarai Renji/Kuchiki Rukia, Abarai Renji/Kurosaki Ichigo
Kudos: 8





	In Another World - Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> This is an unfinished drabble because I ran out of steam.

This was the last sunrise he would ever see.

Kurosaki Ichigo stood by the window of his small room and quietly watched with bloodshot eyes and a heavy heart the sun rising one last time over this desolated world. The dying sun was a dusty red and struggled to pierce the low-lying mist with its waning rays. The sun was such a far cry from its usual brilliant splendour, but Ichigo watched it, nevertheless. He wanted, no, needed to witness this last sunrise.

Behind him, he heard the thin, coarse sheets on his futon rustled as his companion woke. Nearly silent footsteps followed, and Ichigo was not surprised when he sensed the presence of his companion standing beside him, or when his companion wrapped an arm about his bare shoulders.

“Ohayo,” Abarai Renji murmured, pressing a soft kiss against his temple.

In return, Ichigo curled his arm about Renji’s bare waist and leaned into his side. “Ohayo.”

They said no more; they did not have to say more. They knew each other intimately; it was impossible not to. In the drawn-out war with the dead Quincy, they have fought together, bled together, saved each other, cheated death, and comfort each other every time they lost friends and allies. They were closer than nakama, closer than lovers; there were simply no words to describe their bond with each other.

Finally, Ichigo turned to look at his companion: red-headed Renji who lost an arm and his wife many months ago but did not allow the losses to prevent him from becoming even fiercer in battles. Ichigo did not know what expression he himself wore right now but Renji pulled him into a tight one-arm embrace. Ichigo gladly returned his fierce hug, greedily memorising the feel of Renji’s naked torso flushed against his own. Once, Renji had been broader in the shoulders and heavily muscled, but the war took its toil and Ichigo could now feel his ribs under his hands.

“I can feel your ribs too, you know,” Renji said wryly.

Ichigo smiled as he nuzzled the crook between Renji’s neck and shoulder. “Stop reading my mind.”

“I’m not. You were counting my ribs.” Renji buried his nose in Ichigo’s mess of long thick orange hair and simply breathed in his companion’s unique scent. 

Ichigo lifted his head and they exchanged a long deep kiss, open-mouthed and lingering, savouring this last intimate moment of love and calmness. 

“One way or the another, this war will end today.” Ichigo murmured when they parted for breath.

Renji grunted his assent. Releasing Ichigo, he tugged his black hair pick loose from where he had secured it in his hakama’s obi. “Here, I want you to have this.” 

Ichigo stared. “Are you sure?”

“Considering what we are going to do, I’m not letting you leave without bringing along a reminder of us.” Renji’s solemn expression momentarily tightened with grief. “Rukia…Rukia will agree with me.”

Ichigo could not refuse his request. He too still ached with the painful loss of Rukia and everyone he knew and loved. Of his close-knitted group of nakama, Renji was the only one still alive, but it would not stay that way much longer. That very knowledge was a stab to his heart. 

Quietly, solemnly, they got dressed. Black shihakusho for both, but unlike Renji, Ichigo did not put on his bone-white armour. He would not need it, not for what they were going to do. He put Renji’s black hair pick into the silk drawstring pouch he had gotten into the habit of carrying, knotted it close, and tucked it securely into his black kosode. Then he carelessly ran his hands through his long, tangled locks and messily bound it into a low ponytail with a plain hair tie. He paid more attention to Renji’s hair though, carefully finger-combing and braiding back the long blood-red hair. 

“I don’t have anything to give you,” he murmured regretfully as he tied off the end of Renji’s braid with a second hair tie.

“Don't worry about it. What you are going to do is one hell of a gift,” Renji assured him. He turned and reached out for Ichigo again.

Knowing what Renji wanted and wanting the same as well, Ichigo stepped into Renji’s embrace again. This time, their kiss was deeply passionate, devouring, and fierce in its intensity. Ichigo gave as good as he got; their tongues duelled and claimed each other again and again, greedily, desperately. 

When they finally broke apart for air, Renji curled his one hand around the nape of Ichigo’s neck and pressed his forehead against his. “You live, you hear me?” he demanded fiercely. “No matter what happens here, no matter what happens to me, you live. Move forward and don't look back. Don’t ever look back.”

“Damn it, Renji.” Ichigo choked out the words through the lump in his throat. He tightened his grip about Renji’s waist. “Damn it…” He did not know what to say; he was never good with words and now it was worse. How could he tell Renji the same thing when he already knew the outcome?

“We’re already dead. This world, this reality is already dead,” Renji continued relentlessly. “You have a more important mission ahead of you now, so you live, and you move forward.”

Ichigo kissed him again with equal parts of love and misery. “Renji…”

“Live and move forward.” Trying his hardest not to let his own tears flow, Renji pressed a tender kiss against Ichigo’s forehead. “And one day, one day, you’ll have a reason to truly smile again. Can you do that for us?”

Ichigo nodded mutely.

Renji smiled a serene, peaceful smile that made Ichigo’s heart bled even more. “We look forward to that day, Rukia and I. You can be sure of it.” 

Exchanging one last kiss, they parted reluctantly. Both men had to take several deep breaths to steady themselves emotionally before they could leave their room. They walked together, shoulder to shoulder, yet with enough space to draw their zanpaktos in an instance if needed. Through habit, Ichigo walked on Renji’s armless side, covering his companion’s vulnerable flank. 

Up here in the Reiokyu, the Soul King’s Palace, everything was a glowing white. Ichigo could never figure out where the light sources were and how it was arranged in such a way that no object cast any shadow. The Palace was also very quiet, the sounds of their footstep quickly swallowed by the sekkiseki stone of the building. They did not have to walk far to reach the throne room; the domain of the Soul King’s realm and Palace had been greatly reduced during the devastating war. All that was left now was what remained inside the Soul King’s protective barrier. Soon, they reached the giant double doors and the rest of their tiny ragtag defence gathered in front of it. 

Standing a head taller than anyone was the Soutaicho of the Gotei 13, Kyoraku Shunsui, clad in his trademark straw hat and pink kimono though both items were worn and ragged around the edges. He wore an eye-patch over his damaged right eye and part of his right ear was missing. The scar across his right temple attested to the severity of this injury. Despite his scars and being their leader and commander in this detested war, Kyoraku remained as steady and cool-headed as ever. But for how much longer, Ichigo had to wonder. Every time he looked at Kyoraku, he could not help but be reminded of a rock slowly being worn down by fast-flowing water. 

To Kyoraku’s right was Kuchiki Byakuya, pale and remote as always. His stern and implacable personality were another comforting constant. Only once during the war did Ichigo witnessed the Captain of the Sixth Squad lose control of his emotions and that was when Kuchiki Rukia died. In the few days after her death, it was said he massacred the enemies in numbers comparable to the countless blade fragments of his Bankai.

Standing on the Soutaicho’s left was Hitsugaya Toshiro, Captain of the Tenth Squad, no longer a boy but a teenager with hard, icy turquoise eyes and an ice dragon’s temper. He had melded so tightly with his zanpakto Hyorinmaru that his arms and legs were now forever clawed, and he possessed a dragon’s tail. He barely showed any emotions these days, not even in battles. On the rare occasions he did, his surroundings tend to flash-freeze.

Urahara Kisuke stood a little distance away from the trio with his arms crossed. A large, long canvas-wrapped package rested at his feet. His fingers tapped nervously, ceaselessly against the flesh of his other arm as his grey eyes stared off into the distance. He was clearly not completely here, his mind constantly working, working, working. Ichigo could pinpoint the moment Urahara changed. His eccentric mentor had lost just as much as any of them in this war. To break Urahara and effectively remove him from the war, their enemies had captured, tortured, and killed his odd little family and his best friend, Shihoin Yoruichi, who tried to save them before his helpless eyes. But Urahara did not break; he simply focused his rage and grief-maddened but still formidable mind on a single goal - to annihilate their enemies and thwart their plans.

Sitting against the wall, far from any of the Shinigami, was the oddest sight: an Arrancar - Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Unlike the Shinigami, he wore no armour. His hierro was heavily scarred and he was in his Resurrección form, but not by choice. The calibre of their enemies had forced Grimmjow to constantly fight in his Resurrección form for so long now that he had forgotten how to seal his zanpakto. During the Winter War, Grimmjow had been a brutally violent but still cunning and shrewd fighter. In this Thousand-Year Blood Feud War, the constant fighting and killing had finally tipped him over the edge. Though he remained placid now, most everyone gave him a wide berth for their own safety.

But not Ichigo.

Without hesitation, Ichigo detoured to where Grimmjow sat, mindful to keep himself inside the Arrancar’s line-of-sight. “Oi, Grimmjow. You awake?”

Grimmjow stirred lazily and peered up at Ichigo.

Ichigo smirked back at his unlikely ally. He was the only one to steadfastly believed that Grimmjow had not completely lost himself to his Resurrección form, the only one fearless enough to interact with the Arrancar gone feral. “Come on, you have a fight coming.”

Grinning broadly, showing off all his distressingly sharp teeth, Grimmjow rose with feline grace and fell into step behind Ichigo.

These few Shinigami, together with Ichigo and Renji, were all that remained of the once-mighty Gotei 13: a pathetic number that stood fast against the hordes of dead Quincy led by Yhwach.

Kyoraku smiled as they approached. “Ohayo, Abarai-fukutaichou, Kurosaki-kun, Grimmjow-kun.”

“Ohayo,” Renji greeted back. 

Ichigo murmured his greeting. Behind him, Grimmjow ignored everyone else.

“Before we proceed, does anyone wish to say anything?” Kyoraku asked.

Byakuya stepped forward. From within the sleeves of his shihakusho, he took out a small cloth-wrapped bundle. “Kurosaki Ichigo, I request that you carry this with you.”

Ichigo thought Byakuya’s politely worded request was less of such and more of an order, which was typical of the noble. He took the bundle and unwrapped it, blinking in surprise when he saw what Byakuya had given him. “This is your kenseikan.”

“Yes. As you know, only the head of the Kuchiki clan wears this. It is the symbol of my status. I do not know your destination, do not know if the other Kuchiki clan is reasonable or even exist. But if it does and you need assistance, show this to the head of the clan and he will be obliged to help.”

Renji scratched his temple. “No offence, Taicho. It’s more likely they will accuse Ichigo of theft or fraud.”

“That is also possible,” Byakuya conceded, “which is why I have concealed a message in my kenseikan. Only the true head of the clan knows this, and only he will know how to conceal such a message. Once he retrieves it, he will have no choice but to believe you.” 

“Arigato, Byakuya.” Ichigo rewrapped the gift and carefully kept it in his drawstring pouch. “I will keep it safe.”

“There is no need to thank me, Kurosaki Ichigo. You have a most difficult task ahead of you. I only hope that whatever help we can give you will make your task easier in some small ways.” Byakuya walked away to retake his position next to Kyoraku. 

Ichigo exchanged an amused look with Renji. They knew Byakuya well enough to understand that this was the aloof noble’s roundabout way of showing care and affection.

“Kurosaki-kun.”

Ichigo looked back at Kyoraku. Much to his surprise, the Soutaicho removed his straw hat and gave him a deep formal bow. Ichigo blinked in surprise as, on cue, everyone else, including Renji, bowed to him as well. 

“On behalf of Soul Society, the Gotei 13 and the Hueco Muedo, we thank you, Kurosaki Ichigo, for everything you’ve done for us. It grieves us that we have asked so much from you, shames us that we need to ask more from you. Kurosaki Ichigo, we are forever in your debt.”

Flustered, Ichigo scowled and looked away, absently scratching the side of his head. “You don’t need to thank me, Kyoraku-san. I’m just a person who can’t sit back and do nothing while others die for my sake.”

“To help others, to always put others before self, is one of the most important attributes in a Shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo. Your empathy, your kindness, and your resolve, those are what make you an exemplary Shinigami. That is why we are so proud to call you one of our own.”

“Kyoraku-san…” Much to his embarrassment, Ichigo could feel his cheeks heating up.

“Just say ‘thank you’, ahou.” Renji interjected.

Ichigo glared at him, a retort dying on his lips when he spied Renji’s faint smirk of affection and amusement. Mentally sighing, he awkwardly dipped into a formal bow. “Doumo arigatou gozaimasu, Kyoraku Soutaicho.”

Kyoraku straightened and put his straw hat back on with a gentle smile. “Let’s proceed, shall we?”

Ichigo nodded. 

Together with Byakuya and Hitsugaya, Kyoraku pushed open the great double doors of the Throne Room. In solemn silence, the ragtag group of survivors and defenders filed into the Throne Room and marched towards the dais where the Soul King awaited. 

The Throne Room was empty of guards and attendants, all of them killed in the many onslaughts of the Quincy forces. Only the Soul King himself remained, living within his containment pod hovering on the dais where a throne would have been if he was a mortal king.

This was only the second time Ichigo was in the same room as the Soul King, and he was keenly aware that his friends surrounded him in such a way that they acted as a barrier between him and the Soul King. Even now, the memory of his last encounter with the Soul King still chilled him to the bones. He had not known about his Quincy heritage at that time and the kind of Quincy powers he possessed. He had very nearly killed the Soul King if Yoruichi-san had not stopped him at the last moment, pulling Yhwach’s blade from the body of the Soul King’s body herself instead. 

He could still see the marks of that last attack in the great burn marks and gouges marring the smooth pristine surface of the walls and floor, and also more importantly, on the shattered surface of the Soul King’s containment pod and the huge scar on his body. It unnerved Ichigo to see the wound remaining despite the length of time that had passed. Clearly, clearly, the Soul King’s power was waning. 

They knelt before the Soul King.

“We’re ready, Reiou-sama.” Kyoraku said. “With your permission, we can begin.”

The Soul King did not speak; no one had ever heard him talk, but everyone in the Throne Room ‘heard’ his reply in their souls.

“Hai.” Kyoraku bowed one more time and rose to his feet. The others followed. “Minna-san, time to get to work. Kuchiki-Taicho, Hitsugaya-Taicho, we will take our positions as planned! Kurosaki-kun, Abarai-fukutaicho, Grimmjow-san, you’re with Urahara-kun.”

While the others spread out and positioned themselves around the dais, Urahara led the rest right up to the top of it.

“Urahara-san, I’m too close to the Soul King,” Ichigo warned tersely.

“Don’t worry, Kurosaki-san. Grimmjow-kun is keeping an eye on you.”

Ichigo did not find his words reassuring. His powers had grown to such an extent that no form of restrictive kido would hold him anymore, and though his friends were powerful, Ichigo did not know if they would be able to stop him from harming the Soul King if his Quincy powers acted up.

This close to the Soul King, and without the heat of the battle influencing his senses, Ichigo could study the Soul King with clear eyes. Absently, he could understand why both Aizen and Urahara had once so long ago referred the Soul King as a thing and an ‘it’. 

Though he was shaped like a human male, the Soul King barely looked human: from his oval-shaped eyes with black sclera and unusually-shaped pupils that watched their approach with alien intelligence and absolute lack of human emotions to the artificial colour of his skin and his missing limbs. He, and Ichigo used the word ‘he’ loosely for he could see no signs of genitals on the Soul King’s nude body, was obviously powerful but it was power on a completely different scale, so different that it felt inhuman, alien. Being this close to the Soul King made Ichigo’s skin crawl and the Quincy part of him to stir in response. 

Ichigo ruthlessly suppressed the urge to reject the Soul King’s existence. That was the last thing they needed. He might not know how the Soul King came into existence, but they were all on the same side. The Quincy part of himself would just have to accept this fact. 

Stopping a few feet away from the Soul King’s containment pod, Urahara immediately leapt into action. “Abarai-san, a little help please,” he requested cheerily.

“Hai.” 

Together, both men quickly unwrapped the large long package Urahara had brought with him to reveal a bundled stack of four thick oblong-shaped white poles. While Ichigo watched, both men quickly assembled the poles into a recognizable shape.

“That’s a Senkaimon,” Ichigo realized.

“Bingo! But it’s not just any Senkaimon. This Senkaimon will allow the Soul King to concentrate his power even further and punch a hole through this reality’s seven protective layers. You will then escape through this Senkaimon to wherever the tunnel leads.” Urahara eyed the modified Senkaimon with an expert eye. “Excellent work, freeloader-san. Never thought you would be so good with your hands.”

Renji glared at the eccentric scientist and former shopkeeper. “Will you stop calling me that already?”

Urahara laughed lightly, but it was the kind of laughter that made Renji's skin crawled and to wonder about the man's continuing sanity. “Gomen, gomen, Abarai-san, I forgot your name there for a moment.”

“Urahara-san…” Ichigo frowned worriedly at his mentor but Urahara waved aside Ichigo’s concerns airily.

“Don’t worry about me, Kurosaki-san. I had never felt better. We must hurry. I’m sure you can sense their approach.” 

Ichigo did not need Urahara to state the obvious: the oppressive presence growing steadily outside the Soul King’s protective barrier.

The dead Quincy were coming.

“Kurosaki-san, wear these please.” Urahara’s call distracted Ichigo from the approaching enemies. He turned to see his mentor handing him a pair of black-gloved gauntlets. “Do not, I repeat, do not take them off.”

“What are they for?” Ichigo asked. The black gauntlets were a perfect fit for his hands and forearms. He did not know what material they were made from, but he sensed a change in his reiastu flow in his hands and arms the moment he put them on.

“They create a temporary area void of Quincy powers in your hands.”

“Which means I can stab the Soul King with my larger zanpakto without my Quincy power interfering,” Ichigo realized.

“Very good, Kurosaki-san. You were paying attention at the briefing yesterday.” Urahara held out a small crystal ball. “Hold this in your right hand when you stab the Soul King. This crystal ball must stay in contact with your larger zanpakto when you stab it. Your Shinigami zanpakto will act as a conduit for the Soul King to channel all of its Self through it and into the crystal vessel. 

“Once that happens, several things will happen at once and very quickly. The Soul King’s barrier will instantly fall, and the Quincy will attack. Most importantly, this world will disintegrate. You must, in that few heartbeats of time, allow the power of the Soul King in your hand to punch a tunnel through the seven protective layers of this reality and escape. The tunnel is temporary and will close off very quickly, so you have to use all the speed you can muster.”

“Which means right after the Soul King is safely transferred, I’ll have to release my Bankai.” Ichigo frowned. “Will using my combined powers affect the Soul King?”

“No. Remember, your hands are now void of Quincy power. But the crystal ball must stay away from your zanpakto in its Bankai form.” Urahara produced a small black box. “Here, keep this safe with you.”

“What is this?”

“Think of it as a mini vault for the crystal ball. Listen carefully, Kurosaki-san, this is very important. When you reach safety, the first thing you must do is to seal the crystal ball into this box. Then you must place the entire thing over your chest and allow your soul to accept this burden. This box will keep the Soul King’s Self contained and muffled and keep your Quincy power at bay from the Soul King’s Self. But you must still be very careful! No other parts of yourself except for your hands must touch the crystal ball when you seal it! Otherwise, all our efforts will be for nought!”

“So Ichigo becomes a vessel for the Soul King’s Self?” Renji did not like the sound of that.

“No, Ichigo will be its Guardian. There must not be two separate sources of the Soul King’s powers in one reality; it will be detrimental. By keeping our Soul King’s Self in yourself, Ichigo, you’re essentially providing another suppressing layer of protection with your reiatsu. But it’s a temporary measure at best. As powerful as you are, even our weakened Soul King is still more powerful than you. I don’t know how long the containment can last before the power of the Soul King’s Self eats through it. Before that happens, you must get an audience with that reality’s Soul King and get it to absorb our Soul King’s Self. It will then redistribute our Soul King’s powers and knowledge throughout the multiverse and they can heal the wound left behind by this reality’s disintegration.” 

“Got it.” Ichigo unsheathed his zanpakto, holding his larger one in his right hand, hilt touching the crystal ball. His grip was awkward, but he managed as best as he could. He could not help but gaze at his companion. “You ready, Renji?”

Renji gave him a toothy grin. "Sayonara, aibo."

Ichigo grinned back just as fiercely. "Sayonara, aibo."

The Shinigami and Grimmjow placed themselves in a defensive ring around the dais, releasing their various Shikai or Bankai. Urahara joined them, all the while smiling a strangely frightening smile of anticipation. “Soutaicho," he sang out cheerily, "we’re all set.”

“On the count of three then,” Kyoraku called out grimly. “One.”

Ichigo placed the tip of his larger zanpakto against the Soul King’s containment pod. 

“Two.”

Everyone braced themselves.

“Three!”

In one swift move, Ichigo pushed his larger zanpakto through the containment pod, shattering it, and right into the naked torso of the Soul King.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a multi-chaptered epic tale. Obviously, it never got beyond two unfinished drabbles. I wrote these two drabbles about four years ago and forgot all about them until now. Since I'm not fleshing out this story anymore, I'm just going to go ahead and post whatever I have written. Not beta-read (never really needed one), but I did cleaned up the grammar and spellings.


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